


whiskey floods your table

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: Jonas Brothers, Kings of Leon
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:31:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's truth, and then there's fiction. There's the way Nick wants his life to be, and then there's the way his life is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	whiskey floods your table

When they get back to the hotel after lunch, Joe says, "We're here two days, let's go check out the town a little before soundcheck."

Nick shrugs. "Can't. My secret boyfriend is in town."

"Ha, ha," Joe says, as Kevin and Danielle roll their eyes.

Nick doesn't tell them that he's actually not kidding. He slips his keycard out of his wallet. "You guys go ahead and I'll see you at the venue."

Joe raises his eyebrows twice and then salutes. "Have fun writing another pop hit, Nicky!" he calls over his shoulder as he drags Kevin and Danielle out of the hotel.

Nick watches them go, then gets on the elevator.

He can hear the television on in his room as he slides the key into the slot, and bites the inside of his cheek to stifle his grin. Caleb will just make fun of him if he bursts into the hotel room excited and smiling, but his pulse is still racing. The little light flashes green and Nick turns the handle.

Caleb's asleep on the still-made bed, sprawled long and loose, a shaggy mess in jeans and v-neck with a cardigan on top. Most of the lower half of his face is covered in a beard, and his hair is everywhere. He looks as anonymous as ever, something Nick can't help but be jealous of sometimes.

Nick glances at his watch almost reflexively, checking to see how much time they have. It's barely past noon. How he managed to get a day where they're not scheduled for stuff right down to the minute, he'll never figure out.

He clears his throat loudly but Caleb doesn't wake up. So he kicks his shoes off, ditches his sweatshirt and climbs onto the bed, reaching for the buttons on Caleb's sweater. It's been three weeks since they've seen each other and Nick's a little shocked by the realization that the tugging sensation in his stomach was the fact that he'd _missed_ Caleb all this time.

He shouldn't be shocked by any of his feelings regarding Caleb anymore, but maybe it's good that things can still surprise him.

Caleb stirs as Nick tugs at the cardigan, the material soft under his fingertips. "Kid? That you?"

"Yeah. Who else would be trying to take your clothes off?"

Caleb smirks. "Lots of folks."

"Oh, right," Nick says flatly. Caleb smiles and pulls off the sweater, then pulls Nick to him, one less layer between them. Nick slides his palm across Caleb's stomach and curls close.

"How long before you run off to soundcheck?" Caleb asks, muffled in Nick's hair.

"Three hours, give or take."

"Mm." Caleb presses a kiss to his temple. "Set an alarm, in case we get distracted or fall asleep."

Nick doesn't try to hide his grin this time. "Already did."

"Presumptuous bastard," Caleb mutters, but it's fond, and Nick tilts his head to trail kisses over Caleb's stubbly neck. "What I wouldn't give for more than a few hours at a time," Caleb adds.

Nick's heart speeds up a little at that, because he's been trying his hardest to keep this casual and cool (even when they're naked and sweating and Caleb is talking Nick through fucking him) but the more weeks that go by, the more he feels that casualness slipping through his fingers.

"Don't talk about that now," he says. He rolls on top of Caleb, aching in an indescribable way. They kiss slowly for a moment. "What do you want to do?"

Caleb grins, wicked and lazy at the same time. "I want you to suck me."

"Okay."

None of this had started in a way that had made any sense to Nick. A conversation at an awards show afterparty, mostly about Blackbird and a little bit about Caleb actually listening to Nick's solo album and being surprised by it. Then Caleb had taken his phone out of his hand and programmed his number in, waited for Nick to text him so that he could save Nick's. "Keep in touch, kid," he'd said, his voice rough from performing and the drink in his hand, and he'd squeezed Nick's wrist once, sweeping his thumb over Nick's pulse, before turning to talk to someone else.

A picture had hit all the news sites the following day, and Nick had checked his phone to see a text from Caleb. _guess i'm famous now, kid._

Not even flubbing a whole bunch of notes at the show that night had been able to wipe the smile off Nick's face. Looking back, he thinks he should have known then that resisting it was useless.

Now, he makes quick work of the button and zipper on Caleb's jeans, and shoves them out of the way.

"Remind me again how you were a virgin the first time," Caleb groans as Nick licks a stripe up his cock.

"Everyone's a virgin the first time," Nick replies, then swirls his tongue around the head. Under his hands, he can feel the muscles in Caleb's thighs contract.

Caleb drawls, " _Untouched_."

He glances up and Caleb's half-smiling through heavy breaths, propped up on one elbow so he can watch Nick. "Shut up," Nick orders, and takes Caleb's dick all the way into his mouth. The hand on his shoulder clenches, then slides up to thread through his hair, directing his movements. Nick doesn't mind.

*

"Don't go back to sleep," Nick says, shoving his feet into his shoes.

"'m not," Caleb yawns, stretching. "I need to write."

Nick gives him a sharp look. "About what we just did?" he asks, and Caleb's mouth twitches. Nick scoffs and shakes his head. "I should go, before someone comes by and tries to knock down the door on us."

Caleb smiles up at him. "Okay. I'll be here when you get back. But first, c'mere." He reaches out.

Nick leans in and Caleb kisses the hollow of his throat with something close to reverence.

*

It's not the best show of his life, but it's close.

*

It really starts like this:

 _sorta wanna hook up with u_ , Nick's phone flashes. He frowns. It's from Caleb, who he hasn't heard from since that one text the day after the party.

 _what_ , he writes back.

 _hang out. hook up. chill. u can sit on my lap._

He blinks. _i think u have the wrong person_

It's another few minutes before his phone flashes a reply. _dont think so jonas_

Nick stares at his phone for a while, long enough that he can tell Big Rob is looking at him funny, wondering what's up. _ha ha ha_ , he answers finally.

 _what city r u in_

He hesitates. This is weird, but it's also _Caleb Followill_ , who writes music that Nick loves fiercely. If someone else hasn't gotten a hold of his phone and is just messing with Nick. That's the likely story.

He doesn't answer.

Three days later, there's another message. _u never answered?_

 _quit messing around_ , Nick sends back, frowning as he does.

The reply is almost instantaneous. _not messing w/u kid_

He stares down at his phone, his heart pounding for reasons he doesn't even want to think about, and finally types, _Cleveland_.

Half an hour passes, then, _where next?_

Nick bites at his bottom lip, because they're in Nashville tomorrow and it's entirely possible that Caleb could also be there, and he really, really doesn't know what's happening here. _Nashville_ , he types, and after a moment's thought, adds a smiley face.

"Nick, time," Rob says. Nick looks at his chiming phone again. He's gotten a smiley face in reply.

He's got soundcheck, so he puts it out of his head, and it's nearly an hour before he can sneak a glance at his phone. There are two texts from his dad, one from Frankie, and four from Caleb. _look i know its weird_ and _not kidding tho, let's chill_ and _call me later if u want_.

And an address that Nick assumes is in Nashville.

There's absolutely no way he can find time in tomorrow's schedule to even negotiate a ride to Caleb's, much less spend even five minutes there. But he's sort of distressed to realize he wants to.

On the bus, after the show, he climbs into his bunk, pulls up Caleb's number in his phonebook and hits the call button. "Jonas, you're calling, I thought you'd chicken out," Caleb answers.

That sets Nick on edge and he spits out, "Why are you messing with me?"

There's a pause, then Caleb says, "I'm not," in a calm, quiet voice.

"Seriously," Nick insists, trying to keep his voice even although his heart is pounding. "Because I respect you as a musician and if you're just being a douchebag, that's-"

"Come over tomorrow," Caleb cuts him off. Which is probably good, because Nick hadn't been sure where he was going with that sentence.

The breath spills out of him a rush. "I can't."

"Fuck that, you're a rock star, you can do what you want."

"I actually can't," Nick replies, knowing Caleb knows it. He still outlines his schedule for the following day, nearly every minute of which is accounted for.

"Oh. Well, that fucking sucks."

"What do you want with me anyway?" Nick asks warily, trying to take his socks off without using his hands.

Caleb scoffs in his ear. "Are you really so innocent that you don't catch when someone's hitting on you? Or is it just going right over your head because I'm a guy?"

"Uh."

"'sides, I couldn't flat-out proposition you at that party, too many people watching us."

"Uh," Nick says again, then swallows. His palm is sweaty and the phone is slipping in his hand. "Excuse me?"

"You sure you can't come over and make out for a couple hours?" Caleb drawls. "I'm good at it. I got a references list a mile long."

"Yeah, I've heard," Nick replies before he can stop himself. Caleb laughs and whistles. Nick flushes, feels the heat creeping down his chest. "Look, I - you want to come to the show tomorrow?"

"A sea of screaming teenage girls? Tempting, kid, tempting."

Nick doesn't say anything, because he's conflicted about encouraging this. He's conflicted about all of this, which is weird; usually he can make up his mind about what's happening a lot quicker than this is taking.

Finally Caleb says, "Yeah, I'll come."

"You want me to send a car for you?" Nick asks quickly, before he can chicken out.

"You gonna be in that car?"

This is too slippery a slope; he can't go down this road. And that's mixing his metaphors, more than likely. But still. He picks at the blanket on his bunk. Then he wraps himself up in it, keeping the phone to his ear. "Maybe." It comes out lower than he'd intended, and Caleb's sharp inhalation isn't something that can be missed. Goosebumps prickle along Nick's arms.

"What time?" Caleb growls.

"Hold on." Nick takes the phone away from his ear and checks his schedule. Then he says, "Six-thirty. Around there."

Caleb hums what Nick assumes is assent. "Sweet."

"So, um, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"You hangin' up on me?"

"I'm going to sleep."

"Don't."

"I'm tired," Nick says plainly, ignoring the thread of heat winding through his body, ignoring the voice in his head that insists he could listen to Caleb talk for hours. "Really."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Caleb says, then, "sleep good," so quiet Nick barely hears it.

"Night," he murmurs. He ends the call, but it's not until the bus has been rolling towards Tennessee for three hours that he finally falls asleep.

*

"You've been distracted all day," Kevin says, elbowing him sharply. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Nick replies automatically. "Just - Caleb Followill is coming to the show tonight."

Kevin nearly drops his water bottle. " _What_?"

"Yep."

"That's crazy, bro."

Nick grins. "I know."

"I'll believe it when I see him," Kevin says firmly.

"You've only got to wait another - hour or so. Car's going to get him in like fifteen minutes."

"No. Way."

"Way," Nick affirms, drawing it out, amused that Kevin's so disbelieving. "I think I might go along to pick him up. Can you cover for me?"

"Heck yeah."

There is absolutely no way that Nick is telling Kevin, or anyone, that Caleb will probably hit on him in the car. Or that he isn't planning on brushing Caleb off completely when it happens. He'd done a a lot of thinking in the hours he couldn't sleep last night. "Thanks. Be back in a bit."

He texts Caleb for the address, and twenty minutes later, they pull up in front of an office building. Caleb's slouching in the doorway. Nick rolls down the window. "Dude."

"Hey."

The security guy that Rob had sent with him gets out of the back seat next to Nick, lets Caleb in, and then shuts the door behind him. Nick can hear the passenger door of the SUV open and close as he and Caleb stare at each other.

"Lawyer's office," Caleb says finally.

"Oh?" It's dumb, but Nick is sort of at a loss.

"Yeah." Caleb smiles, that goofy smile that Nick's seen in interviews and on stage, but never this close. "So. Ten thousand tweens, huh?"

"I think we sold a little over eight thousand tickets for this show."

"So not a full house?"

Nick huffs a laugh. "No. Decent, but not a sell-out."

"Shame." Caleb's eyes roam over him and Nick's suddenly too hot. "You sending me into the pit of girls, or do I get to watch from on stage?"

"That's up to you." Nick meets his gaze, feels like he's daring Caleb to make a move.

The look on Caleb's face is nearly a smirk. "I'm not gonna jump you in the back of a moving car, kid."

"Shame," Nick breathes, letting it slip out before the thought fully forms, and Caleb's smirk goes full-blown.

*

Four hours later, Nick's pressed up against a wall in a deserted hallway, body held to concrete by Caleb's hands on his shoulders, Caleb's thigh against his thighs. The wall is cold and Caleb's body is so warm, his breath hot on Nick's cheek as he murmurs, "Tell me to stop."

Nick can't control his shudder and he hates himself for it. "No."

"I didn't look away from you the whole show," Caleb whispers.

Nick had barely been able to concentrate through the performance; luckily after all these years his fingers know what chords to play and his mouth knows what words to sing without him having to think about it too much. Every time he'd glanced sidestage, Caleb had been staring at him, a hungry look on his face. "I want to hope no one else noticed," he breathes, fingers skidding over Caleb's arms, "but that's probably too much to ask."

Caleb kisses him, hot and wet and right away with tongue, kisses him and tastes like spearmint gum and Diet Coke, kisses him until Nick's head is buzzing from it and he has to gasp for air. Then there's a loud bang from down the hallway; Nick shoves him away, and hard.

Caleb should be smirking, he thinks, but instead he just looks sort of dazed, rubbing at his mouth with his hand.

"We should go back to the others," Nick says. "Before someone sees us. I can't - I can't afford it if someone does."

"Yeah." Caleb nods. "Yeah, okay. When can I see you again?"

"We're in Atlanta tomorrow," Nick says. Then he pauses. "We're here tonight. I mean, we're staying in town."

"Come back to my place with me."

"There's no way, I'd never get permission-"

"Fuck them. You're eighteen." Caleb leans in and kisses his neck, stubble scratching along skin, and Nick drops his head back against the wall again. "I'll bring you back to wherever you're leaving from tomorrow. Hell, I'll drive you to Atlanta."

Nick wants desperately to ask _why_ , to find out what it is Caleb sees when he looks at him. "Is this some sort of thrill for you, hooking up with me?" he blurts out, meeting Caleb's gaze.

Caleb looks at him steadily for a few moments. Nick can see the pulse beating at his throat. "I only chase what I _really_ want. Usually I let people come to me. If I just wanted to get laid, I could find someone else."

"Oh." He lets Caleb kiss him again, then asks, "How are we getting to your place?"

"I'll call for a car."

"I have to get my bag."

Nick's heart is pounding as they walk back to where the rest of the tour is, Caleb on the phone arranging for some sort of car to pick them up back by the buses. Every few seconds he reaches out to touch Nick, but once there's more people around, he moves a few steps away.

In the dressing room, Nick finds his messenger bag underneath a chair and pulls a hooded sweatshirt over his head. Then he finds Big Rob. "I'm going to Caleb's tonight," he says. "He'll drive me to Atlanta tomorrow."

Rob looks like he wants to argue, but he holds his tongue. "You sure that's safe?" he asks gruffly.

"I'll be fine."

"Don't you get drunk."

"I won't," Nick swears. "I know better."

"Good. Call me when you leave tomorrow so I know you're on the way."

"'course. Thanks, Rob."

Rob waves him off, still looking wary. Caleb physically collects him by sliding two fingers through one of the belt loops on Nick's jeans, and they dodge everyone else and slip outside.

The night air is cool and sweet. Nick breathes deeply. Caleb moves to sling an arm around his shoulders but Nick stops him. "Wait. Just wait."

It's not until they're in the car, driving away, that Nick texts Joe and Kevin to let them know he won't be on the bus tonight.

*

Caleb gets them each a beer and Nick takes tiny, careful sips as they watch a crappy martial arts movie on late-night television, tangled on Caleb's leather couch. None of the other people that Caleb says wander through sometimes are even home; they have the whole house to themselves.

Nick's leaning against the arm of the couch, one bare foot on the floor and the other leg draped over Caleb's, foot planted between Caleb's knees, and he's staring at Caleb's hand curled over his thigh. "I don't get it," he says finally.

"Get what, kid?"

"I should be saying no to all of this. It's _crazy"_."

"There ain't anything wrong with wanting somebody," Caleb replies, and sets his empty bottle and Nick's mostly full one down on the floor. He wraps an arm around Nick's waist, pulls Nick onto his lap.

"I've never said yes before," Nick continues, brushing his lips hesitantly over Caleb's, hoping he gets it. And he must, because his hands tighten almost painfully on Nick's hips and he deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue through Nick's mouth in a way that Nick can only think of as obscene.

And possessive. He shivers as Caleb sucks at his upper lip.

"So there's two bedrooms you could be in tonight," Caleb murmurs when he stops kissing Nick. "Guest room and my room. Which one do you want?"

"Yours."

Caleb tips their foreheads together. His breath smells like alcohol but his eyes are clear and focused. "Now, or you wanna finish watching the movie?"

Nick hasn't been paying attention for at least the last half hour. "I don't even know what's happening in the movie," he admits, slipping his fingers through the hair at the nape of Caleb's neck.

"So... now?" Caleb's hand slides up his thigh and Nick's pulse starts to race. "Yeah, come on," Caleb breathes, without waiting for Nick's answer, and they clamber ungracefully off of the sofa. Caleb winds their fingers together and pulls Nick up the stairs after him.

In the bedroom, they don't shut the door.

He lets Caleb push him down on his back on the bed, lets Caleb strip off his clothes, reaches to help Caleb out of his own.

*

Sometimes, in the rare instances when he lets his mind wander, Nick wonders how long it can really last. He doesn't ask what Caleb does during the weeks they don't see each other and he tries not to guess about it; assumptions of any sort are just that, assumptions, and Nick has no time for that.

But he does wonder just how long they can keep going like this.

And keep going they do, random meetings in random cities, while Nick struggles to keep it a secret in between. He opens his mouth to say sentences that begin with Caleb's name more times than he can count, somehow managing to catch himself before it slips out.

"I tell them everything else, you know?" he says to Caleb one late night in Detroit, dragging his knuckles down the back of Caleb's neck.

Caleb rolls onto his back, pulling Nick on top of him. "No thrill left to keeping this our secret?" he asks, a rough murmur against Nick's temple.

That's not quite it. He still feels that tingle of fear whenever they plan another clandestine meeting. "It just feels so wrong to keep this from them. Joe and Kev don't keep anything from me."

"What would happen if you told them?"

"Bad things," Nick sighs. "Like - I'd either have to leave, or..."

"Pretend."

Nick nods, his face pressed to Caleb's throat.

"Shit, that ain't right." He tangles his fingers in Nick's hair. "And it probably ain't right how much I want to say you should just run away with me." He hums a few bars that Nick recognizes as Kanye, and then his hands tighten on Nick's body. "Shit," he sighs again.

Nick can't help the pained noise that escapes him, matching the twisting in his chest. "Caleb..."

"I know, I should have kept my mouth shut."

"It's not that. It's - you told me once that there's nothing wrong with wanting somebody."

Caleb moves back slightly, enough to met his gaze. "What're you saying?"

"I'm saying I hate my life," Nick breathes. Then he swallows and adds, "I mean, I hate the parts that aren't you."

"Jesus. You need to get the fuck out of there."

"I know," Nick breathes. "I just don't know if I can."

*

This is how Nick wants it to end:

 _stay in Nashville with me_ , Caleb writes, when the Kings tour has wrapped and Nick is anxious in L.A., killing time in the apartment he and Joe are sharing for the summer.

He figures he shouldn't have to say a serious goodbye, since he'll be back. So he calls Joe when Joe's not home and when he knows Joe won't answer, and leaves a message saying he's going to visit friends for a few weeks.

Caleb comes to pick him up at the airport, sober behind the wheel of a dark SUV. When Nick gets into the passenger seat, Caleb leans over to kiss his neck. "So?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"

Caleb grins at him, low and feral. Nick feels like he can't get enough air into his lungs, but that's okay, as long as he can still get some.

*

Six months to the day after the party where Caleb had given Nick his number, Nick lays on his back in Caleb's hotel room bed and stares up at the blank ceiling. The room looks like every other American hotel room he's been in in the last five years. The sheets are a rumpled white pile at the foot of the bed.

Caleb's asleep next to him, one arm stretched out to rest over Nick's waist, his fingertips brushing at the hair low on Nick's belly.

Careful not to shift too much, Nick looks at his watch and thinks he should probably get up. He should probably check his levels, he should probably leave. He should probably do a lot of things.

Instead, he looks over at Caleb, and doesn't move at all.


End file.
